


Photos

by loveanddeathandartandtaxes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Sherlock, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, M/M, Masturbation, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveanddeathandartandtaxes/pseuds/loveanddeathandartandtaxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Even my brain is fallible. It’s difficult to stay rational in some situations. These are objective, immutable."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersweet_art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweet_art/gifts).



John first found them in an unnamed folder tucked away on his computer. Sherlock had a tendency to save case information to either or both laptops, and John was learning to pick his battles. The pictures were of a hand, curled loosely in on itself, and then of the attached wrist and forearm. It was the shot of the crease of an elbow that gave him pause. A tiny freckle and two equally small puncture marks from long-ago blood donations formed a near-equilateral triangle. He looked at his own arm, although he was already perfectly familiar with the marks there.

“Right.”

In other folders, other files; photos of his feet, legs, knees. Many photos of his face in sleep. Even, christ, a collection documenting his cock, lying soft against his body. Some photos showed him awake, off-centre and often out of focus, and John remembered Sherlock fiddling with his camera as they lazed in bed late one morning. He must have turned off the ‘click’ sound it had to indicate when photos were taken.

The whole thing could have been sweet, creepy, or entirely void of emotion: perhaps Sherlock had merely been testing the camera’s settings and capabilities for future reference. He rubbed a hand over his face again. It could be anything.

   

Collecting all the files into one folder took some time. When he figured he had them all, he stepped into the kitchen, placed his laptop on the table in front of Sherlock, and waited.

It didn’t take long; John could see his face flicker through _happy-in-love/carefully-blank/scared/nervous,_ and sat down beside him. Silence stretched for a moment, and John was about to prompt Sherlock, when he spoke.

“They’re for me to remember.”

“I thought that’s what your mind palace was for.”

Sherlock shook his head, agitated.

“Even my brain is fallible. It’s difficult to stay rational in some situations. These are objective, immutable. When - if you ever leave, I’ll be able to remember it all.”

John frowned, clicking through the images like they would turn Sherlock’s words into something sensible.

“‘ _When_ ’... What are you talking about, Sherlock? I’m not leaving; I love you.”

“I know, but-”

“No. Stop. I’m not leaving. I love you.”

“I love you too.” His hand crept over John’s smaller one, and John turned his to lace their fingers together.

 

* * *

 

Some nights later, Sherlock let himself into their bedroom well after John had gone to sleep. John’s phone lay on Sherlock’s pillow, a clear offer. Unlocking it, there was a frame of a video, John’s face smiling up at him. He tapped to play it.

“I love you, Sherlock. Remember that,” recorded-John said firmly, and the video ended. Curious, he flicked sideways to see if there were any other videos or -

  

He _had_ photos of John’s penis. More than John knew about, given some were on his own laptop. And he had _seen_ John’s penis gloriously erect before - many times now. But he hadn't ever photographed John while he was hard. Swiping across the phone again, he found there were more photos - rather a lot of them. John’s hand beside his penis- an important reference for relative size. John’s hand on his penis, John’s hand gripping, rubbing. John’s face, probably trying to look ‘seductive’. John’s hand rubbing - or pressing - against the skin behind his testicles. Sherlock shifted on the bed, a glimmer of arousal warming him. Another photo of John’s face, blurred, but clearly wearing an honest expression, happy and loving. The last photo showed his penis and hand again, now shiny with ejaculate. Sherlock allowed himself a moment to process.

“You like ‘em?” John asked blearily, still facing away from Sherlock.

Not trusting himself to speak, he buried his face into John’s shoulder and nodded.

“Maybe you can set up your fancy camera to take some more photos next time we have sex.”

“You wouldn't mind?”

John’s body shook with quiet laughter.

“Not if I get a copy too.”

  

**Author's Note:**

> [(on tumblr)](http://loveanddeathandartandtaxes.tumblr.com/post/124356776820/my-story-photos-is-now-illustrated-by-the)
> 
> [(art by Rory)](http://ofcowardiceandkings.tumblr.com)


End file.
